


The Castle

by aquilasaurus



Series: Winter at the Castle [5]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Alma ships it, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, First Time, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 19:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilasaurus/pseuds/aquilasaurus
Summary: The castle's heating system fails. Snuggling ensues. Ficlet.Day 11 of the Winter Fluff Event: Huddling for warmth.





	The Castle

It was cold in the castle. Colder than usual. Hecate had thought it was just a cold morning, but the day had stretched on into a cold afternoon, and a cold dusk was rapidly approaching. In the staff room, everyone held a cup of tea and did their marking with blankets on their laps. Hecate approached Mrs. Cackle, but before she could open her mouth, Alma requested the attention of all the staff.

“As you may have noticed, there has been a breach of the castle’s insulation systems. I have called in for repair, but the earliest a team can arrive is tomorrow morning. Bundle up tonight, drink plenty of hot liquids, and consider bunking with a friend or familiar.”

Staff members around the room nodded their assent. Hecate’s eyes widened.

Ada was conspicuously absent. Hecate told herself that she would be all right with an extra blanket.

But soon enough, the chill had seeped in, and Hecate, clad in a black dressing gown, found herself bustling down the corridor to the Deputy Headmistress’ chambers. She knocked, and when she heard no reply, began an immediate retreat. Perhaps this was premature, anyway.

But the instant she turned to go, the door opened. There she stood, in pink pyjamas and holding a candlestick, looking like an angel.

“I’d wondered if you would pay me a visit,” she said, with that bright smile that made Hecate weak every time, even after seeing it nearly every day for two and a half years. “Do come in, Hecate.”

Hecate could see that Ada had not been asleep: a notebook lay open on her desk, and her chair was pushed back. Placing her hands on Ada’s cheeks, she suggested, tentatively, “Bedtime? Your mother did suggest bunking together.”

“My _mother_ is a meddling, nosy old woman.”

“Who loves you and wants you to be happy,” she said, in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. Ada shrugged and leaned in for a kiss, her lips parted.

“Bedtime sounds perfect,” she mumbled against Hecate’s lips. Neither one of them acknowledged that this was new territory for them. They were both grown women, after all.

Hecate took the lead, as she was accustomed to doing. Still attached at the mouth, she guided Ada backwards to the bed and gently pushed her down onto it. Ada sighed against her, arching her back up into Hecate, as Hecate’s fingers went to work at her pyjama top. As inch after inch of skin was laid bare to the chill, Ada teased, “Is disrobing really wise, under the circumstances?,” and Hecate shushed her with more kisses, smoothing hands and lips over the exposed skin. 

Once under the covers, there was plenty of heat to render pyjamas unnecessary.

Their magic sparked and crackled, threading through both bodies as they learned each other, delighted in eliciting new responses. When Hecate’s fingers found consistency, they produced sounds she had never heard from Ada before, and she felt her entire body ascend to a state of heightened sensitivity. It all felt so new, so electric: the increased urgency of her kisses, her brazenness of tongue. She tried to slow down, to commit everything to memory, although in many ways this was unexceptional but for the excitement of uncharted waters. She watched Ada in wonder, taking in the shapes of her unclothed body, her back, her thighs. She was so unashamed, so forthright in her pleasure: the sheer honesty made Hecate feel not only desired, but cared for. 

When Ada touched her, she closed her eyes. This level of vulnerability: she wanted it but could not look it in the face. She retreated into herself, concentrated on feeling with every square inch of her skin. She felt herself needing more oxygen, felt her body arching, felt her response pulsing through her, felt an urge to cling to Ada, to never let go, to hold, to hold.

“Hecate, my darling, open your eyes.”

And she did.


End file.
